Time: Brown Derby Black Bottom Pie

 There are times in life when we encounter a person, an object or an event that we feel we were meant to have in our lives for whatever reason. There’s a pull or an attraction that brings us together and then we have those moments when we realize it was meant to be, that there is something we were meant to learn from this encounter. The Found Recipe Box has proven that to me time and time again. Even after all these months away, as soon as I started to bake my most recent creation, there it was, staring me right in the face just as it had so many times before: a life lesson.

It has been hard to find balance in my life lately. Working full-time, raising a toddler and trying to maintain a life of my own where I’m a wife, a friend and an individual can be exhausting and frustrating. I put a lot of pressure on myself to do my best in whatever role I’m playing and there are many days where I feel spread too thin and as if I’m just not living up to my own expectations. I’ve been determined to work on this blog, but then after a full day am left with no energy and feel defeated that yet another day has gone by without a post. I was disgusted when I logged on and saw the date of my last post.

But, in the midst of these moments, I was delivered a wakeup call. Of course, at the moment, it didn’t feel like that at all and it wasn’t until I had time later to reflect on the course of events did I realize that that’s what I received. In fact, it was while I was baking that I made the revelation. But let me take a step back and first explain what happened.

December was a rough month for our family. It actually began much earlier than that, but it all seemed to culminate in one tragic week of December. Last July, I discovered a tumor on our chinchilla Chico. He went in to have it removed, but the pathology report came back and revealed that he had an aggressive form of cancer. There wasn’t much we could do, it was just a matter of time and we were told to enjoy the time we had left. And we ended up getting a lot more of it than we ever expected. He didn’t start to decline until October, right around the same time that my daughter, Lucy, was gearing up for Halloween. She is in love with superheroes and decided that for Halloween, she would be Batman and our dog, Murphy, would be Robin. But she didn’t stop there. Once we realized that Chico was succumbing to the cancer, she decided that she needed to recruit him for her Justice League and asked me to make him a cape. I would say that I don’t believe she made the connection that Chico was dying and that the timing of her request was pure coincidence, but even at two, she was amazingly intuitive and she is so connected to our animals that she just might have been in tune with him enough to know that he needed all the help he could get. So I pulled out the sewing machine and created a Superman cape for the chinchilla, never expecting that he’d live long enough to see Halloween. Except that he did. He refused to wear his cape so we hung it on the side of his cage, but he was there to help Lucy celebrate her favorite day of the year and to round out her superhero trifecta.

Not only did he live to see Halloween, but we were even able to give thanks that he was still with us for Thanksgiving. That, however, was when our luck began to wear out. Just before Thanksgiving, I discovered a lump in Murphy’s armpit. After dealing with Chico’s cancer, I wasn’t taking any chances and took him straight to the vet, who felt that it was just a fatty cyst, but that we should remove it to be safe. So we scheduled his surgery for the Monday after Thanksgiving. And that’s when our tragic week began.

Monday morning, Murphy went in for surgery. Chico wasn’t doing well and had become very lethargic. So while Murphy was at the vet, I brought him over to my desk (I’m incredibly lucky to have a job now where I work from home) and he sat next to me while I worked. I knew he wasn’t doing well because that never should have been possible. But I took advantage of the opportunity to be close to him and made sure he was comfortable. That afternoon I got the call from the vet, everything went well and the doctor felt that he had gotten everything. When I went to pick him up, Murphy was groggy, but very happy to be going home.

Tuesday morning, I had to make the very difficult decision to put Chico down. It was glaringly apparent that it was time and I needed to let him go. It was excruciating and I had no idea how I was going to explain it to Lucy. His vet told me that she’d never understand and it would be O.K., but I knew my daughter better than that and knew she’d feel this pain almost as much as I would. What I didn’t realize was that Murphy would feel it too. After Chico’s passing, Murphy didn’t go back into the room where the chinchilla lived for over a month. I had no idea he felt so close to Chico, but he obviously felt the hole in our family as much as the rest of us. And I was right about Lucy. Every day (to this day), she asks for him. In fact, two weeks after he died, she was dragging a suitcase through the house. When I asked where she was going, she replied, “to the doctor to get Chico, he’s been there too long.” I had to walk out of the room; I had no idea what to say. All I could do was agree with her and turn away before she saw the tears began to spill. 

This picture is a little blurry, but it was too sweet to leave out.

During this time, I had forgotten about Murphy’s surgery. I was convinced by the doctor’s belief that his lump was just a fatty cyst and devoted my energy to grieving for my friend instead. But that Friday afternoon, I received a call that would force me to focus my energy in an entirely different direction. When the vet called, I could tell immediately by the tone of his voice that something was wrong. His lump wasn’t a fatty cyst, it was something much more sinister: cancer. He repeated several times that he never imagined that outcome. Neither had I. The one piece of good news is that the type of tumor he had typically presents on the heart or spleen and you never know the dog has one until it ruptures, they bleed out and die. By some miracle, Murphy’s was in his armpit where I could feel it and have it removed.

Our vet referred us to the Oncology Department at the University of Minnesota Veterinary Medical Center. They did a full workup on his blood as well as scans on his internal organs to ensure the cancer hadn’t spread. Just before Christmas, we received our second miracle: the cancer hadn’t spread. However, since the tumor was located in his blood vessels, the doctors told us that without treatment it was likely the cancer would return in six months. So in January, Murphy began a low-dose daily chemo treatment that will last for one year. He just takes a pill every day, which he loves because we administer it in a hot dog, and so far, so good. He just had his blood levels tested and everything looks great. He’s in good spirits, besides being frustrated by the horribly cold winter weather (like the rest of us), and you’d never know he’d been through this trying ordeal. There are a lot of people all over the country who have been sending their love and prayers to Murphy so to keep everyone informed of his progress, I started a blog to chronicle his cancer journey. To read more of his story, please visit: www.batlucyandrobinmurphy.wordpress.com.

When we’re in the middle of these situations, we don’t have the capacity for clarity. Instead, I was angry, sad, scared, frustrated, exhausted, etc… I didn’t see this as a life lesson. Not yet. It took a little piece of paper from The Found Recipe Box to show me that.

When I started this project, I never imagined how much it would come to mean to me and what an integral part of my life it would become. I never thought that all those little scraps of paper and index cards written by complete strangers would teach me so much. But I feel like every time I pull one from the box, a lesson comes attached to it. And this was no exception.

January 23rd was National Pie Day and I knew exactly which pie I was going to make. One of the first recipes I posted to the blog was for Black Bottom Pie and when I wrote the post it was dedicated to Murphy (only that was for his “talent” for digging holes in my backyard). This time, I wanted to post a dedication to him in honor of his heroic fight. I began to arrange the ingredients on the counter – some, like gelatin, were things I had never worked with before this project. I pulled out the beautiful red ceramic pie dish I bought for the first pie I ever made from the box. I was overwhelmed with nostalgia and a sense of feeling “at home.” I didn’t realize how much I missed this process, these cards, and the stories. It all came together and just felt right.

I began the recipe at a time when I was also doing several other things, which just seems to be the norm these days. And when I got to step 3 where you “chill until thickened,” I threw the mixture into the fridge and then left my house for several hours to tackle the next items on the to-do list. And that’s when it happened, when it all clicked and the lesson of “time” smacked me in the face. When I finally returned to my mixture, it had hardened and I panicked, I thought I had ruined it. So I attempted to let it reach room temperature to see if that would return it to a usable state, but lost my patience and tried to move to the next step before letting it sit for an appropriate amount of time. As I massaged the mixture and begged it not to be ruined, I stared blaming myself for not taking the time I needed to pay attention to what I was doing and properly preparing this pie. Time. There was that word again. Lately I’ve been cursing the clock for there never being enough time to get all the things done that I need to do. In November and December, I was begging the universe to grant me just a little more time with my beloved chinchilla, my friend of ten years, because I wasn’t ready to say goodbye. And now, here I was, at the mercy of time again and feeling like a failure because I hadn’t managed it properly. So I took the warning. I put the bowl down. I walked away. And I went straight to where Murphy was sleeping and buried my face in the warm tuft of orange hair that stands up where his ear connects to his head. This is one of my favorite places to pet him because the hair here is so soft and when I submerge my nose in the fluff, it smells like Murphy. It smells like “home.” 

After properly cuddling my best friend, I returned to my mixture. And after some coaxing, it finally transformed into what I believe a proper Black Bottom Pie should resemble. I poured the mixture into the prepared pie shell and returned it to the fridge to set.

When I cut the first piece to take pictures and sample my creation, I remembered the hard learned lesson and took time with the pie. I didn’t devour it, even though it was a tantalizing concoction of sweet, but bitter chocolate and homemade whipped cream. I let the fork rest gently on my tongue and slowly pulled the bite into my mouth, where I lingered on the flavors until each had been properly enjoyed. And even now, as I write this, I knew I had to devote my attention so that I could do Murphy, the pie and the lesson justice. The writing has always been my favorite part, so I have made sure to savor it, just as I did that decadent piece of pie. 

I’m not sure how regularly I’ll be able to post, but I am going to make a concerted effort to try to find more moments to dedicate to this project. I miss it too much when I’m away and we need to treasure those things that make us feel like we’re “home.” I apologize for the length of this post, I didn’t realize how much had been percolating inside of me, waiting to be spread across the page. If you made it this far, I appreciate you taking the time to read it and I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did. Now, go and do something for yourself, find a cherished activity or person or place and savor it. Don’t let those moments go. Grab onto them and hold them inside of you so that you’ll never be without them. And if you make this pie, I recommend letting the first bite sit on your tongue for a moment. Take the time to enjoy it. Trust me, it’s worth the wait.

Gratitude: Pumpkin Chiffon Pie

Recently, while reorganizing some stuff in the house, I came across a journal my mom gave me in 1998. It is one of those notebooks I was afraid to start using because it was so beautiful. The cover has a deep green background and a beautiful fairy with a flute who sings to the woodland creatures. 

Looking at the picture always makes me happy, partly because it reminds me of my mom and partly because it portrays a scene of love and festivity. I finally put words into it on January 14, 1998. The first entry was a quote my mom had written in my 21st birthday card:

    “Optimism, like the happiness habit, can be learned. Start today with a little experiment. Smile at everyone you meet. Today, expect something good to happen to you no matter what occurred yesterday. Realize the past no longer holds you captive. It can only continue to hurt you if you hold onto it. Let the past go. A simply abundant world awaits.”  -- Sarah Ban Breathnach from the book Simple Abundance

I began to fill the book with lists of things that I was grateful for. Looking through the list that is now 12 years old, I realized two things: 1.) that none of the things I had written were material possessions, they were all irreplaceable people, places or moments and 2.) that 12 years later, not many of them had changed. I’m still grateful for each and every one of them.

First Taste of the Season: Pumpkin Chiffon Pie

I am happy to announce that canned pumpkin is back on the shelves at the grocery store! Halloween decorations are popping up all over the neighborhood and to celebrate autumn, and the return of canned pumpkin, I decided to make the first pumpkin pie of the season.

When we bought our house, I was excited to be able to decorate the outside for all the holidays. Since fall is my favorite season, I took particular interest in jazzing up the house’s curb appeal with pumpkins, gourds and corn stalks. However, my excitement was short lived when I discovered what a ruckus the décor would cause among the local squirrel community. They began by scaling the corn stalks in search of leftover ears, which they then threw to the ground and began to fight over. But that was only the beginning of the commotion. Next, they set their sights on my pumpkins. They chewed a hole into the side of each pumpkin, large enough for their rotund little bodies to fit through, then sat inside the bulbous food pit and ate it from the inside out. 

Delivering Bundles of Joy: Southern Fudge Cake & Strawberry Chiffon Pie

The other day, while wandering through the aisles of the grocery store with a grumbling stomach and rising level of agitation at not being able to find anything (they’re currently renovating so everything has been moved to a temporary location that the search into a game of “Where’s Waldo”), I started to pay more attention to the people around me rather than the food. Sure, there were those who were just as frustrated as I was that a ten minute “quick” run to the store had turned into a quest more daunting than Frodo’s trip to Mordor (my husband is a HUGE Lord of the Rings fan, I haven’t yet read the books, but the story still keeps finding its way into my life regardless). But then I noticed something else: the bleary-eyed, glazed-over look that seemed to have taken possession of so many of the faces around me. Many grabbed aimlessly for meals in a box or frozen bag that required little to no preparation. Others seemed totally disconnected from the experience all together and as their arms reached out to grab items and toss them into the cart, I wondered if they would even remember doing it when they got home and unloaded their bags.

After locating the few items I needed, I made my way back to the growing lines at the checkout. Instead of scanning tabloid headlines like I usually do to waste time in line, I began to contemplate how much thought we actually put into the food we make. So many of us are too worn out at the end of the day to care enough to put our few remaining scraps of energy into a well-planned, home cooked meal. To be honest, until I started this project, I didn’t pay as much attention to my weekly menu as I do now. Before, my husband and I planned meals that would provide enough leftovers for the rest of the week or, if we hadn’t had time to run to the store, we’d piece together the remnants of the freezer, fridge and pantry until it resembled something edible.

Savoring Every Bite: Pecan Pie

Sunday night was the season premiere of Season 3 of True Blood on HBO. I got addicted to the show about a year ago when I started reading the books by Charlaine Harris that the TV show is based on. I’m currently reading book 9 in the series and it’s really hard to put down. I could have read the entire series in about a week, but I knew if I did that then it would be over and I’d have to wait patiently for Charlaine Harris to write another one (I really, really hope she keeps this series going, I love it!). So I made a deal with myself that I had to read one or more books between each book in the series. It’s been hard, but at the same time, reading each book is like savoring every bite of a really good dessert to make it last just a little bit longer.

An All-American Day of Firsts: Old Fashioned Apple Pie

Yesterday was a historic day in Minnesota. The Twins played their first game in their new stadium, Target Field. It seems that all anyone has been able to talk about lately is the new baseball park. However, the it’s not just the stadium that has everyone excited, it’s also the lineup of food.

The menu will, of course, include the typical baseball food such as hotdogs and nachos, but Minnesota is really putting their stamp on this park and some hometown favorites are standing proud on the menu as well. The famous Juicy Lucy burger will join local faves such as Kramarczuk's sausages, Murrary’s steak sandwiches and Caribou Coffee. And, since this is Minnesota, what event would be complete without State Fair-inspired food, such as walleye on a stick, pork chops on a stick and cheese curds? My husband stood in line for 45 minutes yesterday to get walleye, which he was happy to report was “very good.”

In honor of this momentous occasion, I decided to embark on a landmark event of my own: I made my very first apple pie, complete with a homemade pie crust. The weather has been so nice lately that we’ve all had summer on our minds. And what says summer better than baseball and apple pie? I was nervous and excited about this adventure, as I’m sure the Twin’s were when they stepped out onto the beautifully manicured field for the very first time (I think they had a little more at stake than I did though).

I’ve always thought pie crusts would be really difficult to make, I had visions of a boiled icing afternoon in my future. But it wasn’t bad at all. And thankfully, it all worked on the first try. The individual pieces weren’t difficult to make. However, once the pie was filled with cinnamon-sugar apples, the next challenge was fitting the top and bottom crusts together. I think that is definitely an art form that requires practice. I got the pieces together, but it wasn’t artistically sculpted like some of the pies I see in magazines or in bakeries. But in the end, all that mattered was the taste. And in that area, this pie lit up the scoreboard. It’s a simple, classic tasting pie – not overly sweet, not overly tart. It’s one of those flavors that makes the fork linger in your mouth because you slowly pull the pie onto your tongue, savoring each delicious moment it’s on your taste buds. 

Sadly, the Twin’s didn’t have as much success on their first game in the new field as I did with my apple pie. They did come back to win today though. And this is only exhibition; opening day isn’t until April 12th so they have some time to work out the kinks. And hopefully, once they do, their season will be as mouthwatering as an Old Fashioned Apple Pie. 

Thanksgiving Doorbusters: Cranberry Sauce & Pumpkin Chiffon Pie

 

Happy Thanksgiving everyone! I hope you had a fun holiday full of family, good food and safe travels. I didn’t host Thanksgiving dinner, but I did bring some Found Recipe Box creations to my husband’s family’s dinner table: cranberry sauce and pumpkin chiffon pie. 

Cranberry sauce is incredibly easy to make and is done in less than 20 minutes start to finish. I always looked at that red, gelatinous mass on the dinner table and thought it had to be really hard to concoct. If you can boil water, you can make cranberry sauce. It’s that easy. And it’s so much better than the canned stuff!

I am a huge fan of pumpkin pie and I think that this pumpkin chiffon pie just might be my new favorite. It’s almost as easy to make as regular pumpkin pie. The only additional step is to make a meringue that gets folded into the pumpkin mixture. It makes the pie light and airy, which is really nice after stuffing yourself at Thanksgiving dinner. You get the taste of pumpkin pie without getting weighed down by a heavy dessert. Because let’s be honest, no matter how full of turkey, potatoes, stuffing and bread we are, there’s always room for dessert! 

I also had a special request from my husband to make apple crisp. It was a tough choice between that and the apple kuchen, but we decided on the crisp. It was a hit. But an even bigger hit was the homemade whipped cream. We had a hard time keeping it away from my niece. She didn’t want any pie or apple crisp, just the whipped cream…6 plates covered in whipped cream. Can you say “sugar rush?” I should have tried that when I woke up at 5am this morning to go shopping. It was the first time I’ve ever shopped on Black Friday, let alone at 5 o’clock in the morning. It wasn’t bad though, I was on the road just after 5am and back in bed by 6am.

And now that Thanksgiving is over, it’s officially time for Christmas (although, if you’re one of my neighbors, Christmas apparently started about 2 weeks ago when they began lighting the herd of glowing animals in their yard). So tune into the 24-hour Christmas music station and get ready for cookie season! I’ll be posting lots of cookie recipes soon so if you’re looking for ideas for a cookie exchange, be sure to check the Found Recipe Box!

Thanksgiving Part I: Early American Pumpkin Pie

 

This weekend I was at home in Chicago celebrating a baptism and my first of two Thanksgivings. My side of the family won’t be able to be together this year for the holiday so some of us celebrated this week and others will celebrate on the actual day. I only had one request for the weekend: that I get to share one of the recipes from the box. In honor of the holiday, I chose to make the traditional Thanksgiving dessert, pumpkin pie.

According to the Guinness Book of World Records, the largest pumpkin pie ever made weighed 2,020 lbs and measured 12 feet, 1 inch across. That sounds like something that should be on Man Vs. Food, I’d love to see Adam Richman take on that beast! I’d also like to see the oven they cooked that thing in and know how long it took them to fully cook it. The pie I made took quite a bit longer to cook than the time suggested on the card, but we may have been having some oven trouble as we later discovered. If you make this recipe, which I recommend you do, keep an eye on the time and be prepared that it may take longer to cook. It will also need to sit for a while to cool and firm up. 

This was one of the best tasting pumpkin pies I’ve had. It was rich, but not overpowering and very easy to make. And if you’d like to try something a little different, there are two alternative recipes on the backside of the card. Any of the variations would be great for a Thanksgiving dinner table.

For Murphy: Black Bottom Pie

 

My dog is not happy about my new project. More specifically, he’s not happy about the amount of time I’m spending in front of the computer and in the kitchen instead of paying attention to him. He has decided to vent his frustration on my yard. Here is a picture of him surveying his latest handiwork. And yes, that’s a 1-foot ruler stuck into the hole. Notice that the hole is deeper than the ruler is tall. If anyone needs a hole dug in their yard, my dog is pretty efficient and he works for Milk-Bones.

 

So, in his honor, I made a Black Bottom Pie today. If you have ever seen the movie Waitress, then you can appreciate the idea of creating a pie in response to an emotion or situation. Fortunately, this pie already had a name that was pretty fitting because if it had been up to me, I had a few choice words for my dog that would ruin the PG rating of my blog.

This recipe required another trip to Target to purchase kitchen gadgets that I do not have – a pie dish and a pie server. And I also got to use a wedding gift that has been tucked away for the past three years eagerly awaiting me to make a recipe that requires a double boiler.

 

I have never made a pie before and I have never eaten Black Bottom Pie so I had no idea what to expect. This recipe, as I’m discovering is the case with many in the box, doesn’t list all the ingredients up front, nor does it fully describe all the steps listed. I don’t know how people did this before the invention of the Internet because it has been a lifesaver. The first piece of information I needed to know what was kind of chocolate to add. Similar to the Apple Kuchen, this pie recipe has a plethora of variations. Thankfully, one of the first few I came across was pretty close to the one on the card and became my back-up for the entire process. I decided that the best chocolate to use was unsweetened baking squares. My back-up recipe also alerted me to the fact that I needed the double boiler.

Once the whole process was finished and I had assembled my pie (complete with chocolate shavings on top), I looked at the ingredients I had set out on the counter to make sure I used them all and realized there was one that never made it into the pie. Vanilla extract. (Insert expletives here that were originally thought of as possible names for this vanilla-less pie.) I looked back over the directions and realized that there was one that said to add “flavorings.” I’m assuming this was supposed to be the vanilla. 

At this point, I considered going out in the yard and digging a hole. Maybe my dog was right; maybe it would help with frustration. So I put my pie in the fridge and went outside to join him. On my way I swiped my finger through the leftover chocolate in the double boiler. It wasn’t bad. In fact, it was pretty good. Maybe it didn’t need the vanilla after all. So instead of adding to the destruction of my yard, I sat on the deck petting my dog, waiting for my first-ever pie to firm up.

Thanks Murphy, for reminding me that it’s O.K. to make mistakes, that there’s something to be learned from every mistake we make. Maybe someday you’ll learn to stop digging holes and instead sit patiently by my side until I can reach down and scratch behind your ears or throw your Wubba.

Too bad you can’t have chocolate because this is one of the best tasting mistakes I’ve ever made.